Chapter 24: The Gate

The park by the river had a red iron gate at the bottom of a hill.

Mom stopped the car at the top of it, and turned off the engine, and did not say anything.

"I'm going in alone," I said.

"I know."

"You can wait out here."

"I'll be right where you can see me."

She did not kiss me, and I did not ask.

That was the rule for today, and I had made it myself.

I climbed out with my coat zipped to the chin and walked down the path.

It was a cold, bright Sunday, the fourth of November, and the cottonwoods along the water had gone the color of butter.

Dad was already there.

He stood by the swings in a plain brown jacket with his hands in his pockets.

He looked at his watch when he saw me.

"Ten minutes early," he said.

"I told you if you were late it was over."

"I thought I should be early, then."

Alana sat on a bench with a thermos, and Eli was already in the swing, kicking his dinosaur sneakers at the sky.

"Mads-Mads! Push me!"

"I'm not allowed to push. My stitches."

"Dad push!"

Dad pushed.

He did it badly, too hard and not at the right angle, and Eli shrieked with joy.

I sat on the bench beside Alana and watched.

"He asked about your school on the phone yesterday," she said. "He took notes."

"Notes?"

"On the back of an invoice. He wrote down your teacher's name."

I looked at my father's back, bending and straightening, bending and straightening, pushing a small boy into the blue air.

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